New Orleans: Trois

I insisted on Cafe du Monde for cafe au lait and beignets because as a far as I am concerned, man cannot live on bread alone, but he can get pretty far on hot, fresh beignets. The line to sit stretched down the block, and it wasn't moving. It was crazy. We hopped over to the pickup window line and that was a lot shorter and faster. I can't even imagine. Those people will wait in the heat and humidity for an hour for a table, and then they'll wait for at least half an hour at the table for the exceptionally slow service. I'm not saying the beignets aren't worth it, but the take-away window exists for a reason.
We ate ours in Jackson Square. After the beignets were gone, we were left with a half pound of powdered sugar in the paper bag.

Lunch was at Amelie, a courtyard tucked away close to the middle of the vieux carre. I just got basic eggs, bacon, and grits.

Tay and I split off and walked to cemetery 1 on St. Louis street close to Treme. We picked our way through the decaying graves and found the pyramidal tomb that Nicholas Cage built as his final resting place.

We took a streetcar to the garden district for drinks at the bar in the victorian Columns Hotel on St. Charles. Pretty scenery and historic mansions. I do really like the streetcars in New Orleans. After drinks, we hopped back on the streetcar and rode it back to the hotel since we were all kind of tired. The heat and humidity take their toll.

We drove back to the garden district for dinner at Superior Seafood. I got fried alligator with a kind of 1000 island dressing, and a cajun seafood linguine. Quite good.

After dinner, dad and Neri dropped us at the entrance to Bourbon street and Tay and I plunged back in. It was, if anything, more crowded. We picked our way through half clothed and drunk revelers and slipping into a side street, walked through the doors of French 75, a world apart. French 75 is an old, elegant bar where the wait staff wear tuxes, and the clientele are more genteel than the fall breakers outside. Tay and I were offered to share a table with a couple, but we declined and found our own table. I ordered a caipra de gallo and Tay ordered a Napoleon. My drink was basically a caiperhina, except it was flavored with sriracha sauce and guava. It was a sweet and spicy drink. If you're a fan of chamoy you would probably love it. Expensive drinks, but strong, and long lasting. We were there for nearly an hour. Through the windows, we watched a wedding parade march by with a second line band, a horse drawn carriage, and everyone waving scarves. Ahhhh, New Orleans!

We left French 75 and went back to Bourbon street. Tay really wanted to get the full bourbon street experience so of course, we had to find a sugary drink in a plastic container. After we couldn't get a fishbowl (a plastic fishbowl you wear around your neck, filled with Hurricane), we opted for a frozen daiquiri at some anonymous and brightly fluorescent lit bar which caters to the takeaway crowd. There were a gaggle of drunk blonde undergrads from some sunny university who, after asking about Tay's hair, highly recommended the pina colada freeze. Bartender joe initially brought us out the two drinks in foam cups but we made him serve us in marti-gras jester glasses, where it looks like you're sipping out of the jester's head. We said adios to Tiffany (or whatever her name was) and wandered back down Bourbon.

We walked over Frenchman street for some live music. Another totally different environment- much more local, much more bohemian. We self-consciously ditched the novelty cups and looked at sheet metal art under a string light lit art market. Tay wanted to go to D.B.A, a recommended venue, but apparently word had gotten out and cover was twenty bucks. Twenty bucks! We crossed the street to Spotted Cat, a livehouse I'd remembered from the last time I was here, and paid a five dollar cover to get in. The beer was cold and the swing jazz band was just beginning their second set for the night. We had a few beers there, and debated how to stump the poets for hire lined up on the sidewalk outside.

After the second beer, we headed over to Maison, a place with no cover. The music wasn't as good and the spaces was obviously designed to handle massive crowds. But still, no cover. We had another beer here and listened to the band awhile before we staggered the long way back across the vieux carre. We were both at the end of a night of drinking kind of drunk- the toastiness and mellowness of burned down coals rather than the leaping flames of recent intoxication. We were also hungry. The concierge recommended the diner around the corner.

We slid into a booth at City Diner, part of a cheap Wyndham hotel, and watched the steady stream of returning young drunks through the large windows, some of whom pressed up against the glass to get a better look at Tay's hair. I remember the food was warm and that the biscuit with my breakfast plate was good. Tay inexplicably ordered a side of fried green tomatoes, a decision he regretted.

We got back to the hotel room around 4 am and passed out still mostly dressed.